


We're Fine (At least, we pretend we are.)

by PippyLI



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dreams, Emotions, Gen, Sea Grunkles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15922655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippyLI/pseuds/PippyLI
Summary: The Stans thought that everything would get better after Weirdmaggedon. As it turns out, it's not that simple as it seemed.





	We're Fine (At least, we pretend we are.)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm trying out different writing styles, and this was one result. It's a bit all over the place, but I like how it ended up. Enjoy!

Sometimes Stan would wake up with his heart racing and all he would see was  _ blue fire _ and each time he would feel a pair of strong arms wrap around him, rocking him until the image dissipated and his heart calmed.

 

“Ford?” He would ask, his words slurring from exhaustion, and he'd be shushed and told something like “Don't worry” or “I'm here” or “You're okay, you're safe.” But through his sleepy haze, he notices that something about the tone is off.

 

“Are you okay?” He could ask, should ask, but doesn't and lets sleep take over.

 

He never remembers his dreams when he wakes up again.

 

…

 

He and Ford eat breakfast together. Well, technically he's the only one eating while Ford just sips his whatever number cup of coffee, but that detail doesn't matter. What matters is that Ford looks like he hasn't caught a wink of sleep and isn't chattering on about the newest anomaly, because seriously, Sixer, there always seems to be a new thing you're studying.

 

Stan takes a sip of his own coffee and says, “You didn't sleep at all.” It's not a question.

 

Ford looks up at him then and pulls the most unconvincing smile he has ever seen. “I'm fine.”

 

Stan frowns as he eyes the dark bags under his brother's eyes. “Uh huh,” he says, drawing out the words. “and I'm secretly a mermaid.”

 

Ford sighs through his nose and rubs at his eyes with one hand. “Really, I'm fine. I'm just not used to sleeping on the water yet. Just… give me a week or so. I'll be fine.”

 

Stan squints his eyes and says nothing.

 

...

 

It's a week later, and Ford isn't fine.

 

“I said I don't want to talk about it, Stanley! Just drop it.”

 

“Why should I drop it? Ford, I  _ care _ about you. Just tell me what's wrong!”

 

They were yelling. Stan didn't want this. He just wanted to sit Ford down and talk to him. He just wanted him to get better. He just wanted to help.

 

Ford looks like he's going to say something, but instead he lets out a breath and turns around. “I'm going to get some fresh air,” he says and starts to walk away.

 

Stan furrows his eyebrows. He catches up with Ford and grabs him by the wrist a bit harder than he was intending to. “Ford, wait-”

 

He's cut off by the yelp that leaves his brother and Stan looks up, surprised, and sees Ford grinding his teeth in pain.

 

Stan loosens his grip and Ford all but rips his hand away, turning swiftly as he says gruffly, “I'm leaving.”

 

Stan's concern turned into anger faster than he could say hippocampus.

 

“Fine! It's not like you can go anywhere, you know, with us being out in the  _ ocean _ and all!” His voice echoes all throughout the room. When he hears no response, Stan resorts to cleaning around, ignoring the muffled sounds from outside.

 

…

 

Stan doesn't fall asleep until late, not until he hears the sound of the door open and Ford's boots hitting the wooden floor does he even try to get comfortable. Sleep gets ahold of him quick and soon he's sucked into a dream. 

 

He's walking through a forest. He doesn't remember ever starting his trek, but Stan doesn't pay that any mind. Many of the trees he passes are burnt and fallen over. Some are still standing, but they sway dangerously in the breeze, causing Stan to walk a little faster whenever he come near one.

 

He walks for quite a while and the only sound he can hear is his own footsteps.

 

After a few miles of walking through the endless forest, Stan comes across a pond and something compels him to touch the water. As he watches his reflection get distorted by the ripples in the water, his reflection’s eyes flash yellow for a brief inexplicable moment before returning to its normal shade of brown.

 

He doesn’t notice.

 

He keeps walking further into the forest.

 

_ Laughter echoes all around him. _

 

…

 

Stan blinks awake the next morning to find Ford leaning on the foot of his bed. His head is tucked in between his arms. All is quiet, save for the gentle waves hitting the wood of the boat from above.

 

Stan props himself up by his elbows and stares at Ford.

 

“...Ford?” He asks hesitantly.

 

After getting no response, Stan cautiously reaches out to touch his shoulder and hears a snore come from Ford. He pulls his hand back and smiles softly. 

 

As quietly as possible, Stan gets up and out of bed and walks out of the room.

 

…

 

The sun was just beginning to rise when Ford bolts into the room in a panic with a cry halfway out of his throat. His hair is all messed up and his eyes are giving away his exhaustion. Stan furrows his eyebrows in worry at the sight of his shining cheeks.

 

“Ford? What's wrong?”

 

Ford's eyes look him up and down, as if he was trying to convince himself that Stan was real. After a moment, Ford's breathing slows to a less panicked state and he leans heavily against the door frame.

 

“He didn't get you,” Ford breathes out. “You're still here.”

 

Stan stares in confusion. “Wha-who didn't get me, Ford? What are you talking about?”

 

Ford looks at him with heavy eyes. “Bill.”

 

Stan sighs, loudly, and Ford's now the one staring in confusion.

 

“What?”

 

“Bill's dead, Ford.”

 

“...I know.”

 

“He's not going to get you or me. I won't let that happen.”

 

There's a moment of silence as they stare at each other before Ford breaks down. He lets out all of the emotions he's held in since Weirdmaggedon. He cries into Stan's shoulder, and Stan makes a vow to punch that cursed triangle twice as hard if he ever sees him again, even if it's only in his imagination.

…

 

The following night Stan dreams of laughter and yellow triangles. He wakes up and remembers none of it except one thing. It's small, and he's not sure if he even heard it in the first place, but it still shakes him to his core.

 

_ “You fool. Don't you know that matter cannot be created nor destroyed?” _

  
  



End file.
